


Large Vanilla Latte

by Areiton



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Barista Stiles Stilinski, Fluff, Holidays, Lawyer Derek Hale, M/M, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-14 11:41:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16912221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Areiton/pseuds/Areiton
Summary: The bell over the door clatters a cheerfully annoying welcome, and Stiles smiles as the man he’s going to marry strides up to the counter.





	Large Vanilla Latte

At nine a.m. Stiles straightens up from where he’s slouched on the counter. The coffeeshop has slowed down from the eight am rush, and Kira is humming happily off tune as she puts a fresh set of bagels in the display case and Tall Scowly Scruff will be making his way in...any...minute.

The bell over the door clatters a cheerfully annoying welcome, and Stiles smiles as the man he’s going to marry strides up to the counter.

He’s got a blue suit on today. Not Stiles’ favorite look--he prefers the charcoal grey one with the waistcoat--but then again, Tall Scowly Scruff looks good in anything.

“Large vanilla latte with an extra shot,” Stiles says, grinning and Tall Scowly Scruff grunts at him.

“And a bagel,” he says, his eyebrows pulled down as he glared at whatever’s on his phone.

Stiles nods, and busies himself making the order, stealing glances at Tall Scowly Scruff whenever he could.

It was completely safe--he never looked away from his phone.

He never did.

Still.

He inhales the coffee when Stiles pushes it across the counter at him, and drops a sizeable tip in the jar before he flashes a smile before he turns and leaves.

Stiles sighs as the bell clatters mournfully and looks at Kira, whose grinning openly. “I’m gonna marry him _so hard_.”

She laughs and Stiles stares after his one day husband dreamily.

 

~*~

 

He finds out Tall Scowly Scruff’s name completely by accident.

And he gets his heart trampled in the process.

He sweeps in, wearing a long black peacoat, Stiles is going to actually die, leather gloves on his hands, and a girl tucked into his side.

It’s the first time Stiles has seen him without his phone in hand.

“You _have_ to come, baby,” the girl wheedles, “It’s for Christmas!”

“I don’t really like Christmas,” TSS says and Stiles _gasps._

It makes both TSS and his friend turn to look at him and Stiles flushes, a hot, splotchy red.

TSS is staring at him, speculatively, and Stiles squeaks, “Vanilla latte?”

“Ooohh!” the girl purrs, twisting to lean into TSS, “Derek, do you have a _usual?”_

“I order the same damn thing every time I go out, Erica,” Derek--oh god, Tall Scowly Scruff is named _Derek--_ grumbles and nudges the blonde. “Order your damn coffee.”

She cackles but leans across the counter. “White chocolate mocha. With peppermint. Extra shot, if you got it.”

Stiles swallows uneasily and Derek huffs, hauling her across the counter and back on her feet. “Behave or I’m not taking you anywhere again.”

“Except home for Christmas, right baby?”

Derek ignores that and refocuses on Stiles. “Can I also get a hot chocolate, and three of the plain bagels?”

Stiles nods, and he listens to them chatter, as Erica pokes and prods at Derek until he huffs a laugh--and god is that a beautiful sound--before he finally passes the drinks across the counter and gets the smile he’s come to expect.

It’s smaller, but friendly and warm and it stings a little as he watches Derek escort Erica out into the cold. She’s wearing the blue scarf he’d had on when they walked in.

Kira leans into him and says, “Maybe make it a five year plan?”

He nods sadly and she snuggles into his side with a soft little sigh.

 

~*~

 

So his future husband has a girlfriend. It's a blow, and honestly, Stiles wants to just let it go.

He wanted to let it go with Lydia too, when he was  being laughed out of the cafeteria in seventh grade after a brutal rejection.

Unfortunately, letting go comes slow and hard for Stilinskis, something he's seen ample, painful proof of from his dad.

Kira gives him sad eyes and she drags him out with Scott, tries to find a nice scruffy guy on the dance floor of their favorite club for Stiles to lose himself in.

It doesn’t work. He gives her a sad sort of smile, kisses her cheek and goes home to pine in peace.

 

~*~

 

He does _try_ to get over Derek. He takes to hiding in the back when Derek comes in and ignoring the sad-eyed stare Kira gives him when he emerges. It’s better this way. Because as much as he might _like_ Derek, he wasn’t about ruining someone’s happy relationship.

Besides, when he was in the back, he could steal bagels. He told himself fresh baked bagels were a more than fair trade-off for seeing Derek every day.

It was a dirty lie, but he _told_ himself, anyway.

 

~*~

 

He pulls a late shift three days before Christmas, when a blizzard slams into the city. He hasn’t heard from his dad yet, but he’s already bracing himself to hear that his flight was cancelled.

It seems like the season for being disappointed.

He wishes he’d taken Kira and Scott up on the offer to go upstate with them but being around the ridiculously happy couple was something he just couldn’t handle right now.

He’s ignoring Liam and Mason as they bicker, eyeing the clock as he wipes down tables and considers making himself a carmel macchiato when the door clangs open and he straightens.

The man is covered in snow, in short sleeves and wet pants, shivering so violently Stiles takes an instinctive step toward him.

“Dude,” he says, and that dark head comes up.

“ _Dude,”_ he breathes, and eyebrows furrow in an impressive scowl.

Hiding did _not_ make it better. Because now he’s presented with a snow covered—it’s in his _eyebrows_ , oh my god—Derek, bereft of his coat, scowling and beautiful and—totally untouchable.

“Dude,” Stiles says one last time, and his voice pitches high and agitated, “where is your _coat?”_

Derek blinks at him, which is probably fair. Until now, their interactions have always been limited to what Derek was ordering and ‘ _have a good day’_. The whole slow seduction that Stiles has dreamed of has been just that—a dream.

“I—there—I gave it to a girl.”

Stiles flushes, and looks away. “Must be a really special girl,” he says, and turns. “Come on, I think we’ve got something dry in the back you can put on.”

He isn’t sure that Derek will follow him—he’s got no real _reason_ to follow a bossy barista into the stock room—but he does.

“There’s a blizzard out, dude. Did you not think your girlfriend could get her own coat?”

“It—” Derek’s bewildered look gets briefly obliterated by the sweater Stiles throws at him, and then he frowns. “It was a girl in the subway. She didn’t have a coat.” Derek shrugs, self-conscious, and Stiles stares at him, mouth hanging open unattractively.

Derek’s gaze flicks down, and then up as a flush colors his ears.

It’s _adorable._

“You’re _adorable.”_

Derek goes bright red and Stiles does too. He skitters back a step, an apology already half-formed when Derek blurts out, “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

Stiles blinks at him. Derek is standing in his stockroom, wearing a dusty sweater with sleeves that hang a little too long, his pants still damp and sticking to him, hair spikey and wet and staring at Stiles with this open, earnest expression, eyebrows almost begging him to listen.

“Erica—”

“Overly affectionate best friend with boundary issues,” Derek cuts him off. Takes a step closer, and Stiles retreats, backed into the wall. “Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?”

Stiles gapes at him, and Derek steps a little closer. He can feel the chill coming off Derek now. “You noticed that?”

“Of course I did,” Derek huffs, and presses against him.

Any further questions are cut off by a kiss. A gentle press, almost a question, and Stiles groans, lurching into Derek with a needy noise, arms wrapping around broad shoulders, tangling his fingers in Derek’s hair. Derek answers with a low noise of approval and licks at his lips, hungrily. When Derek finally pulls back, it’s to mumble, “You should spend Christmas Eve with me.”

“Can’t,” Stiles gasps, rolling his hips as Derek nips at his throat. That bruise is going to be _huge_ and _awesome._ “My dad—he’s coming into town—holy _shit,_ Derek,” he whines, dragging Derek up to lick into his mouth and Derek’s hands, on his hips, tighten, delicious pressure.

“You should spend it with us,” Stiles says intelligently and Derek blinks at him, unsure.

Stiles arches under him and murmurs, “At least spend the night with me.”

Derek grins, his scowl nowhere in sight, and ducks down to press his lips against Stiles throat.

Stiles leans his head back, giving Derek more access to his throat and sighs dreamily.

“I’m gonna date you _so hard,”_ he promises and Derek laughs into his throat.

 


End file.
